


All the Things Lost

by kagedyams



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Bonding, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Keith is suffering always, M/M, Major Character Injury, hooo boi where do i start with this one, thats it its all angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-08
Updated: 2017-01-31
Packaged: 2018-08-20 03:41:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8234851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kagedyams/pseuds/kagedyams
Summary: Lance has a problem remembering all the bonding moments he has with Keith."I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel" -Maya Angelou





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "People change and forget to tell each other"  
> Lillian Hellman

“Hey, Keith,” Lance rasps, blood dribbling down his chin as he twitches in Keith’s arms. They’re stuck outside the destroyed Galra base, waiting desperately for Coran and Allura to pick them up. Keith had known from the beginning that leaving their lions on the ship would be a mistake, even if it was for the sake of sneaking in unnoticed.  
“Lance, don’t try to speak,” Keith orders, hand pressing firmly against the deep gash in his stomach. Blood seeps between his fingers and his hand keeps slipping against the wet surface of the injury, but he can’t risk letting Lance lose any more blood than he already has.

“Just… let me say something? I don’t know when Allura’s gonna get to us… it might be too late.” Lance chokes on a bubble of blood after his sentence, wheezing out a cough as more of the red liquid oozes down his chin. Keith wishes he could wipe it away, but one hand is holding up Lance’s head and the other is pressing against his wound.

“Don’t say things like that, they said they’d be here in a few ticks, we gotta trust them,” Keith begs, eyes watering as Lance attempts to smile. He’s allowed a moment of weakness given the circumstance.

“Yeah, but if I don’t have a few ticks left, I wanted to say… I really like you, Keith. Maybe I hated you before, but now… I think I really love you.” Lance gurgles, offering a weak smile as Keith squishes his eyes closed to try to stop the tears, only succeeding in causing drops of water to land against Lance’s pale cheeks. “I wish I could wipe those tears away, but I kinda can’t feel my arms,” Lance attempts to joke, his weak chuckle fading away into choking gasps as shudders take over his body.

“Come on Lance, breathe, you idiot. How can I tell you how I feel if you die on me?” Keith shouts, watching as Lance flinches slightly, tears drawing up in his eyes. They roll down his cheeks, mixing with Keith’s own. Keith tightens his hold on the back of Lance’s head, fingers raking across the soft strands as he curls over Lance’s body.

“I’m sorry Keith, don’t think that’s gonna-” Lance pauses, eyes growing impossibly wide as his body convulses, mouth agape as he pulls in large gasps of breath. Keith’s hand slides off of Lance’s wound and his ears vaguely pick up on himself screaming Lance’s name, holding him tight and trying to regain control. Lance’s spasms die down in a moment, allowing the boy to go completely stiff, limbs dropping like dead weight in Keith’s arms. His eyes are open, just barely, but they’re glazed over and unfocused. Keith shakily places a hand on the pulse point in Lance’s neck, feeling nothing but cold skin.

“Hey Lance, come on buddy, stop joking around like that. Lance, this isn’t funny, don’t you fucking dare die on me.” Keith slaps his face, doing whatever he can to get Lance awake. He can hear Allura’s voice over his comm, assuring him that they’re almost there, but he knows it’s too late and he can’t feel _anything._ “Come on Lance, you asshole, wake up so I can tell you I love you!” He screams at him, vision dulling as the Castle enters the atmosphere and Shiro’s lion circles towards them.

* * *

 

The timer on the healing pod is creeping ever so steadily towards completion. Keith paces anxiously around the pod, sparing a glance at Lance’s peaceful face every few seconds before resuming his pacing. He hasn’t exactly been keeping track of time -- it’s kind of hard to do so in space -- but Shiro had informed him earlier that Lance has been in the pod for a little more than 5 days. Keith’s grateful for whatever magical property there is that causes the healing pods to work so fast.

By the time Shiro had landed, Keith stopped his wailing in favor of trying to resurrect Lance, desperately applying all the medical knowledge he knew to give him CPR. Shiro had to yank Keith off of Lance’s body after 60 beats, despite Keith’s protesting, as he pulled out the Altean equivalent of a defibrillator. Keith’s protests grew as he placed the rod to Lance’s chest, squeezing his eyes shut as Lance’s body jumped from the energy. Whatever Shiro had done had been successful in kickstarting his heart, and Keith was relieved when Lance’s eyes shot open and he gulped in the air. Shiro had scooped Lance up and run for the ship, barking orders at Keith as he handed off Lance to him and piloted the ship towards the Castle.

Keith was able to keep Lance alive just long enough for them to land and place Lance inside a healing pod, and the tension immediately left everyone’s shoulders as they watched the injuries on Lance slowly fade away. They stayed like that for the first hour, before everyone slowly drifted off to do their own thing and wait until the timer expired. Keith had stayed the whole day, until Shiro had forced him to eat and go to sleep.

“Come on Keith, there’s still over a hundred ticks left on the thing, you don’t have to check on him every half a moment,” Pidge mumbles, typing at their computer as they comment. The entire group has assembled in front of Lance’s pod, each with varying expressions of anxiety and hope.

Keith scoffs at Pidge’s comment: “Well, last time you were all too busy having your clock party to realize,” he protests.

“Okay to be fair, you were also distracted by the clocks,” Hunk chimes in sheepishly, scratching at the nape of his neck.

“Besides, we _all_ heard your conversation with Lance. You can’t just deny that you want to jump him the second he comes out,” Pidge teases, looking up from their laptop to raise a suggestive eyebrow at Keith. 

Keith effectively trips on nothing, halting his pacing. “Wha-- It was a spur of the moment thing, you know? I thought he was gonna die,” Keith tries to defend himself, albeit fruitlessly. The entire team gives him deadpan looks, so Keith just crosses his arms and sits besides Shiro in a huff. Keith trusts him enough to know that Shiro won’t tease him.

“Just go easy on him when he gets out, Keith. Can’t have you breaking his nose trying to kiss him,” Shiro states, glancing at Keith out of the corner of his eye to gauge his reaction. Keith turns to look at Shiro in disbelief. He heard that tiny lilt in his voice, he knows Shiro was teasing him.

Traitor.

The rest of the group bursts out into laughter at Keith’s expense. Keith begins to sulk, but the unmistakable hiss of the healing pod opening causes all the heads in the room to look towards the cause. In a puff of misty gray smoke, one foot stumbles after another and Keith is already halfway across the room, catching Lance just as his knees give out and he falls forward. Keith holds him to his chest, inhaling the sterilized scent on Lance’s clothes. They had no time to change Lance out of his paladin suit, only taking off the bloodstained armor and leaving him in the black spandex.

“Welcome back, space cadet,” Keith jokes, tightening his arms imperceptibly around Lance. Lance grumbles noncommittally, still not quite awake from his long nap. The healing pods weren’t meant for long stays and it’s taking him awhile to get used to his surroundings again.

The moment he regains his cognizance finally strikes, and Lance’s eyes widen as everything hits him at once. He pushes away from Keith with all his strength, eyes wild as they take in his surrounding. The rest of the group has crowded around him, looking at him with confused eyes.

“Why is Keith at the Garrison? I thought he got kicked out?”

Keith feels a sharp twist in his gut, as if punched. Winded, he takes a cautious step back as the words rattle around in his head. Lance is just as confused, looking around and realizing he definitely _isn’t_ in the Garrison.

“Where are we? Hunk, what happened?” He looks to his friend for help, but everyone is equally shocked. Lance looks down at himself, noticing his spandex suit still coated with dried blood. “Why is there blood here? Am I dead or something?” Lance’s voice is steadily rising, panic setting in as his eyes dart around quickly. They land on Allura, settling for a moment before a smile takes over his face. “I don’t think we’ve met. I may be dead but my name’s still Lance,” he raises an eyebrow and Keith feels sick.

World spinning, Keith turns around and bolts out of the room. He can vaguely hear Hunk talking, probably asking questions or getting Lance to calm down. Keith doesn’t want to stay, his vision is swimming and his throat has clenched up and his chest is seizing up and he _can’t breathe._ The hallways blur together into one fuzzy line and Keith isn’t quite sure where he’s going or even if he’s moving at all until he feels a firm grip on his shoulder pulling him to a stop.

“Keith, calm down a moment,” Shiro’s calming voice finally allows for Keith to ground himself, chest heaving in gulping breaths as he turns and faces Shiro. His face is gentle, eyebrows knitted upwards and his eyes gentle yet melancholic.

“He doesn’t… he doesn’t remember anything,” Keith chokes out, and it hurts more than it should. Saying it out loud, facing the reality of it all.

“Coran said it’s just a side effect from being in the pod too long. Hunk’s trying to explain it to Lance what’s happened, so just calm down. Give him a day and it’ll be okay.” Shiro says calmly, and Keith manages to settle down.

 

* * *

  

Everything was _not_ okay.

Lance didn’t remember anything, even after 3 days. Hunk had explained the situation to Lance and it had taken him a while to process everything, but it seemed fine with him.

Everything was _not_ fine.

Whatever progress Keith and Lance had made during their time as Paladins was immediately lost. Lance returned to his bickering and competitive self, nose wrinkling ever so slightly whenever he passes Keith in the hallway. He would challenge Keith to inane competitions constantly, as if he were still in the Garrison trying to one-up Keith again.  


* * *

 

One day, there’s a knock on Keith’s door.

It’s been about a week since Lance came out of the healing pod, and Keith has been safe in avoiding Lance as much as possible. But he can’t avoid Lance when he’s standing at his door, looking down sheepishly at his feet.

“Hey uh-- can we talk?” Lance asks, bringing a hand to scratch the back of his neck.

“Sure, what’s up?” Keith’s wary, crossing his arms as he takes in Lance.

“Actually, Hunk told me something interesting about you earlier. Well, not only about you, I guess? Kind of about _us?_ ” Lance is phrasing it more as a question than a statement, and Keith curses out Hunk in his head. He can already guess where this is going.

“And? What’d he say?” Keith asks, feeling his heartbeat slowly pick up. It strums away at an exponential rate, speeding up with each moment of silence that passes between them.

“Well he said that I um… liked you?” Keith can feel his heart flatline, the entire world around him distorting wildly as Lance shuffles his feet. When Lance realizes that Keith isn’t responding and instead giving him a blank stare, he’s quick to talk again. “And, like, I know that’s totally crazy and all because we like _hate_ each other, y’know? He was probably just playing a huge prank because he knows I’m straight and I totally like chicks and all and he and Pidge are probably laughing at me for being so gullible and having to ask you myself and please don’t slap me for asking.” Lance rushes out, each syllable chipping away at Keith and he doesn’t even realize that Lance has finished talking and is waiting for Keith to answer him with bated breath.

Keith lets out a dry chuckle, quelling his dismay. He can’t let Lance know what he said when he was bleeding out, there’s no way he can mess with his head like that. “Did they really say that? I mean would you honestly believe I liked you? Come on you idiot, we’re like rivals, Keith and Lance, neck and neck. Don’t be such a fool.” He can feel the distance between them grow like a gaping cavern, cutting the two off. Lance is standing right in front of him, but he feels miles away.

A relieved look crosses Lance’s face, exhaling subtly. “Oh, thank god. That’s what I thought. Anyways, thanks for clearing that up!” Lance is back to his cheerful self, all smiles and joy and that happy glint shouldn’t be in the eyes of someone who lost all their memories.

“Right, is that all? I was kinda busy.” Keith interrupts, not looking in time to see Lance’s confused face as he closes the door.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeehaw i regret my life.
> 
> I really love fics where lance gets hurt pls dont aks me why and i have like 3 fics in progress thatre lance-centric and involve lance being wounded so here's a keith-centric fic but still with lance being wounded.
> 
> Yikes I wanted to make it a short like 2k one shot but I had too much to write so I'm gonna make it a few chapters taht are all like 2k words long and hope it ends up okay??? yikes.org


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "When we contemplate the whole globe as one great dewdrop, striped and dotted with continents and islands, flying through space with other stars all singing and shining together as one, the whole universe appears as an infinite storm of beauty."  
> John Muir

Something didn’t feel right.

Lance stumbles out of the healing pod, head pounding and limbs numb. His eyesight is blurry and before he can even think of what’s happening he’s falling against something hard. It’s warm, heat radiating off his cheek and the cool feeling of cloth makes him want to fall back asleep. The smell of sweat and sand shouldn’t feel so familiar, but Lance wants to wrap himself tight around the source. There’s a soft rumbling from what he realizes is someone’s chest, like a purr of someone laughing or talking, but his hearing has left him behind. He finally manages to pry open his eyes and look up at the person who’s holding him. Through the muddled thoughts whirling within his brain, he’s able to pick out a memory: test scores at the Garrison, the back of a retreating figure, a sneer, _Keith._

Lance pushes away hard and fast, confused words spewing out of his mouth. His mind’s too messed up to notice the way Keith’s face warps into distress and confusion. The scent of blood and sweat invades his senses and Hunk is pulling him up before he can collapse, lugging Lance over to the steps around the healing pod so he can sit down. He’s rubbing soothing circles around Lance’s back as he breathes heavily, trying to get him to calm down as Pidge looks on with alarmed eyes and the hot alien girl is talking rapidly with her mustachioed friend. 

“Hunk, where… where are we?” Lance gasps out through the dryness of his throat. Pidge picks up on the raspy tone and nods to Hunk, exiting the room and coming back moments later with what looks to be water in a juice box. 

“Lance, uh… what’s the last thing you remember?” Hunk asks, fidgeting slightly.

Lance blanks, rooting through his throbbing mind to see what he can remember. “Well, I remember we were at the Garrison and… oh! You snuck into the commissary and you got those weird custard things -- what were they called?”

“Those were cannolis, but Lance,” Hunk looks mildly offended at Lance’s lack of pastry knowledge, but the serious overtone overshadows it, “that was 9 months ago, do you not remember anything past that?” Hunk’s fiddling with his fingers, eyebrows drawn together in worry.

Lance’s ears are ringing. _No, that’s not right._ A voice pesters the back of his mind and he shakes his head, something’s bashing against his skull, hammering away at his mind and everything is swimming. This isn’t right, there’s no way Lance would just up and forget _9 months_ of his life. “This is a joke, right? Or-or some freaky dream I’m having! Yeah, that’s it, I bet this is some weird simulation at the Garrison for team bonding and I’m gonna wake up and we’re gonna laugh about it together and then Pidge is gonna question my ability as a pilot and you’re gonna share some of that weird chocolate bar that your Aunt sends every month and we’re gonna gossip about the instructors and how stupid Iverson’s beard is and then we’re going to sleep and I’m gonna wake up and everything’s gonna be right. Right? Right?” Lance is breathing heavy, his throat hurts and Hunk is giving him a pitying look and Pidge has hidden their face behind their computer screen and he can’t even see the two aliens through the tears growing in his eyes.

“I’m sorry Lance, I’m sorry,” Hunk is there, pulling his friend into his chest and Lance is sniffling, choking out a mantra of _no, no, no_ through the snot running down his nose and the mucus clogging his throat.

They stay like that until Lance runs out of tears and allows the weariness to lull him into a dreamless sleep. 

* * *

 

It takes a while, but Lance slowly comes to terms with his amnesia. There are times when he’ll see or smell something --  a purple infraction in the castle, a smell of hotdog water and feet -- and he has to stop for a minute, eyes tearing up just slightly as he pulls at the wisp of a memory. It frustrates him, almost reaching the peak of a mountain but falling just before he can glimpse the view from the top. He wants to remember, he really does, but there’s some unstoppable roadblock that disallows him. There’s some gear that’s stopped working and it’s halting the entire machine and he can’t find the oil to fix it.

It’s worse when he’s near Keith.

There’s some seizure in his chest every time he looks into Keith’s impossibly purple eyes. At meal time he’s half tempted to reach over and filch Keith’s food, just to see his nose wrinkle up in distaste and watch as he leans in to steal a bite off Lance’s dish. It’s an odd sensation, but it’s not unpleasant. Lance isn’t sure why he wants to piss Keith off so much, but before he even realizes what he’s doing he’s already calling out to him about how his mullet looks more mullet-ier than yesterday, or challenging him to a competition whenever he finds Keith in the training hall. Just being around him, hearing him scoff or smelling that slightly nostalgic scent of sand and sweat makes Lance wonder what exactly he missed in those 9 months.

“I feel like there’s something I’m forgetting,”

“Yeah, 9 months of _something,”_

They’re alone on the pilot deck, overlooking the stars and nebulae as they drift across deep space. Keith is next to Lance, attention trained on the vast space before him. Ever since Lance heard from Hunk about Keith’s feelings, he had tried to avoid him. But in a castle filled with exactly 7 people, it was hard to accomplish. Lance began to feel more comfortable being in the same room as Keith after he had denied any feelings for him-- although his chest had cramped up at the time. Lance thought the feeling odd, but he dismissed it as just disappointment that Keith _still_ didn’t see Lance on the same level as him. It pissed him off, but it also made Lance want Keith to notice him more.

“I know that, but I feel like it’s something more. Like, it’s right in my face,” Lance reaches his hand out, fingers spread towards the galaxy of stars, “and I’m looking it right in the eye but I’m not actually seeing it, y’know?” He closes his fist, sighing as he drops his hand and head. 

“Yeah,” Keith grunts noncommittally. “But if you forgot, it must not have been anything important,” Keith sounds distraught, and Lance lifts his gaze to look at him through the side of his eye. There’s some forlorn look on his face as the light of the passing stars illuminate his features, dark shadows appearing under his eyes and around his cheekbones. Lance sighs and looks back up, leaning back on his hands.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. But I mean, it still kinda sucks. I bet we’ve been to dozens and planets and met tons of hot alien babes, and I can’t even remember a single one. Even now I don’t recognize a single star out there,” Lance sighs, eyes flickering along the trail of lights outside, searching for some familiar constellation.

“But isn’t that good in its own way? It’s like a second chance, you get to do everything over again.”

“Then would you?” Lance asks, shifting his gaze to look at Keith. Keith looks back, lost in Lance’s intense stare. “If you got to start 9 months later than everyone else in a ship you don’t remember, with aliens you’ve never seen, a million billion miles from your home, would you want that?”

Lance can see Keith falter, and he knows why. His voice has slowly grown louder, and he’s practically yelling. There are tears in his eyes and the stars outside have blurred in his vision into brilliant specks of hazy gold.

“I’m… not sure. On one hand, you get to feel that first rush of battle all over again. That tremble in your fingertips when you maneuver your lion, that euphoric feeling after you won a battle when you feel… invincible. All the praise and rewards of the people you save, you get to feel that all over again. And you get to watch the constellations and give them silly names because nobody else has given them one and you look out and realize that the whole of space is out there and waiting.” There’s a soft smile on Keith’s face, one Lance doesn’t remember ever seeing before. His eyes are closed now, as if he’s reliving each and every one of his _firsts_ all over again. But he continues, that wistful look dripping away as he carries on.

“But you also feel the hopelessness of this mission, when you saved one planet but _just barely,_ and you know there a million others you’ve got to save also. And you’ll wake up in the middle of the night to the screams of the people you couldn’t save and you’ll wonder why you thought you could save the universe in the first place. How five humans who have barely seen their own world have to save countless others. And you’ll grip your hands together and try to remember how the sand feels between your fingers and what the ground smells like after rain and if that chocolate pudding you left in the fridge is gonna spoil before you get home.” Lance can hear the grit in his voice, the harsh tone that underlies the truth of his words. Lance feels a pang in his chest, a feeling he knows he’s felt hundreds of times during his stay on his trip but he can’t remember _why_ he’s felt it. How many times has he cried over his mother? How many times did he lay awake with smooth jazz as white noise as he watched a blank and unyielding ceiling? How many times has he forgotten?

“But I can’t speak for how you feel,” Keith breaks Lance’s desolate thoughts, voice sharp. “Love it or hate it, you’re you and there’s only one thing you can do now.”

  
“And what’s that?” Lance asks, gaze flickering up to the moisture in the corner of Keith’s eyes, the self-loathing upward tilt of his mouth.

 

“You just have to remember,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't beta this so chances of me changing or deleting are very high.
> 
> Anyways ignore my blatant disregard for writing in-character bc i hate myself I had this written like 2 months ago and forgot to upload it.
> 
> Anyways if you liked it, scream at me on tumblr @ kagedyams.tumblr.com


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Everyone keeps telling me that time heals all wounds, but no one can tell me what I’m supposed to do right now. Right now I can’t sleep. It’s right now that I can’t eat. Right now I still hear his voice and sense his presence even though I know he’s not here. Right now all I seem to do is cry. I know all about time and wounds healing, but even if I had all the time in the world, I still don’t know what to do with all this hurt right now.”   
> Nina Guilbeau

After their moment on the deck, Keith takes up a more active approach at avoiding Lance. Watching the faint glittering of distant stars light up Lance’s skin like small freckles almost drove him insane. He never realized it before, how much he wanted to just _be_ with Lance, feel his impossibly smooth skin under his calloused fingertips and just enjoy the mutual comfort of being together.

Keith wonders when he even got used to Lance.

Keith spends more time in the training room than what is considered healthy. Before the incident with Lance, he already spent most of his free time sparring with the Gladiator, but now he’s there whenever his thoughts become too much for him. Which is often.

He imagines the Gladiator as different things. Most times it’s the Galran soldier who shot Lance, but on the rare occasion it’s Lance himself with his stupid face and that stupid smile and that stupid _amnesia._ Every once in awhile he’ll look into the cold blue light of the Gladiator and he’ll see himself, see his own sneering face through a sweat-stained haze.

_Why didn’t you tell him sooner._

_Your feelings are a burden._

_He didn’t love you enough to remember._  

Those days he’ll beat at the robot until the blood from his split knuckles seeps through his gloves and his vision is swimming in and out of focus. His knees will hit the floor as tears and sweat roll off his face and onto the pristine training floor. He’ll stay like that until Shiro finds him, forces him to stand up, take a shower and eat something.

_This is my punishment for not remembering him at the Garrison._

 

 

It doesn’t take long for the others to pick up on Keith’s behavior. He’s done with breakfast and cleaning the dishes before Lance has even taken a bite, and he very neatly avoids eye contact with everyone in the room when any topic pertaining to Lance makes an appearance.

It’s safe to say Keith’s erratic behavior doesn’t escape Lance’s attention.

He’s on his way back from the shower, damp towel slung over his shoulders when he hears the footsteps behind him. Keith’s tempted to keep walking, but he can’t evade whoever’s behind him when they start calling his name. Keith’s shoulders tense the moment he recognizes that same obnoxious voice, hoarse and just slightly high-pitched. He whirls around just in time to see Lance marching on over to him.

“I need,” Lance starts, chest heaving in and out as if he had chased Keith across the entire Castle, “to talk to you.”

Keith weighs his options. He could just run, but in an interstellar vessel filled with exactly 7 humanoids and 4 mice, it’d be hard to avoid Lance and his infuriating determination for long. Another option would be a clean hit above the head, but Keith isn’t sure if that’d restore his memories or cause him to lose more. The final option is just waiting to hear what Lance has to say, but for the some reason that appeals to Keith as the least pleasant. Before Keith can even execute any plan at all, he feels the heat of Lance’s palm gripping his forearm.

Accepting his fate, Keith allows Lance to tow him into an adjacent room, swiftly shutting the door behind them. He leans against the door, and Keith realizes he’s stuck with his two biggest weaknesses: social interaction and Lance.

“You’ve been ignoring me,” Lance immediately accuses, and it’s safe to say Keith expected it.

“I have not,” Keith immediately denies. He totally was ignoring him.

“Have too! Don’t think I haven’t noticed. I mean, even Hunk noticed and he’s so dense when it comes to relationships. Just tell me what I did wrong,” Lance had never tried to reconcile their relationship before, and he’s contemplating why Lance would be so hung up about it now. Did he remember something? No, if he did he’d let everyone know. Something has changed, but Keith can’t pinpoint what it is.

“Why are you so bothered by it? It’s not like us not being friends is entirely new,” Keith finds himself getting defensive. Judging by the twitch between Lance’s brows, he guesses it was the wrong thing to say.

“I know that, but I just thought… you know Hunk and Pidge have been telling me old stories from before I….” Lance trails off, fidgeting in discomfort. He doesn’t need to finish, they can both fill in the gap, “and everything just doesn’t make sense. If we’ve been fighting like this for so long and all, shouldn’t something have changed? I don’t know what happened, but I can’t remember until you tell me,” Lance begs, and Keith finally gets it.

Oh.

There’s a faint memory tugging at the back of his mind, of an obnoxious voice from the back of his Introductory Piloting Class at the Garrison. It was loud, as if the person was trying to garner the attention of everyone in the room, the attention of _Keith._ He remembers grumbling to himself and turning his eyes back down to his homework.

 _Oh_.

Keith remembers his earlier remorse at not having talked to Lance sooner. Without his memories, without any recollection of their silly banter and their bonding moments and their team exercises, without all the battles they’ve fought and won, they’re nothing but fighter pilots in training. Keith had returned to that same tactic of turning his head down and blocking out Lance and their made-up rivalry. And maybe that’s something that Lance _did_ remember, that need to be noticed by Keith, to grow closer to him and finally be recognized as more than the cargo pilot.

“It’s none of their business to be talking about that stuff. It’s in the past, so there’s no use dwelling on it and whatever, right?” Keith knows he _wants_ Lance to remember, but he can’t imagine how an amnesiac Lance would react to Keith confessing his feelings. Especially with their relationship as it is now.

“What’s so wrong with me remembering it? Something happened before I got hurt, didn’t it? If it’s something about me, I want to know what it is,” Lance argues, brows creased and eyes serious. Keith is tempted to kiss him, but he knows that’s the worst possible outcome of this infuriating situation they’re in.

“I think it would be better not knowing. If it happened or it didn’t, you forgot about it, that’s all there is to it,” Keith wants to tell him. Wants to grab the front of his jacket and pull him close and scream his feelings right into his face. He wants to tell him _I like you and you liked me too and I want to go back to whatever we were before you changed your mind._

Lance seems to take offense at that, taking a step forward and using the little bit of height advantage to glare down at Keith. He looks pissed, and that’s not something that’s often used to describe Lance. “How would you know if it’s better or not? They’re my memories, and I’ll decide if they were bad or not after I figure out what they are! Seriously dude, do you hate me that much that you want me to--- Mmph!”

The way Lance’s mouth is moving is increasingly distracting, eyes lit up with passion and his face so close Keith can count the barely-there smattering of freckles under his eyes. It’s tempting, and Keith, socially awkward and impulsive Keith, does the first thing that comes to his mind when he sees Lance so close to him.

He kisses him.

Lance’s tirade is cut off by Keith fisting the front of his shirt, pulling him down slightly so Lance’s lips, parted from shock and his mid-sentence rant, collide harshly with Keith’s. Suffice to say, Keith has no clue what he’s doing, but he has no doubt Lance remembers what a kiss is and even if their teeth clack against each other and their mouths don’t slot together as neatly as Keith would like, he knows that Lance will get whatever message he’s trying to say. When Lance doesn’t respond, probably because of the sheer shock of _Keith_ kissing him, Keith almost deludes himself into thinking perhaps this would force-restart Lance’s memories. But all too soon he’s feeling hands push against him, disconnecting their lips with a wet _pop_ and a thin sliver of saliva.

“What the _hell,_ dude!” Lance starts, and Keith silently pulls his hand across his mouth, staring up at Lance’s face, more confused than angry.

“I told you it’d be better not knowing,” Keith says. Using Lance’s temporary immobilization to his advantage, he pushes past him and leaves the room.

  

 _At least I know how he feels now. This is how it was meant to be._ Keith things, walking briskly down the hall. His fingers trail along his damp lower lip, feeling the remaining heat from the kiss. _This is the future I deserve._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoo I totally didn't slip into Holiday Depression™ and forget to write about this. Anyways, I'm not so confident with my writing at the moment so I figured I'd just update the fic I had the lowest standards for. It's not good or anything, but comments boost my ego so :P
> 
> kagedyams.tumblr.com


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Flatter me, and I may not believe you. Criticize me, and I may not like you. Ignore me, and I may not forgive you. Encourage me, and I will not forget you. Love me and I may be forced to love you."  
>  William Arthur Ward

_Holy. Crow._

Lance’s brain is a mess. Or, well, more of a mess than it usually ought to be. His lips are still tingling, leaking the wet warmth of Keith. He stands, stunned, until the saliva on his lips melts away and he’s left feeling dry and utterly confused.

Sure, Lance has kissed people in his day. Not to brag or anything, but he had a steady girlfriend in the third grade with the girl who sat next to him on the bus home. Lance has had _experience,_ if a cringe-worthy smooch during a botched game of Master in his freshman year counts. He’s kissed a few girls, and he’s imagined kissing even more girls, but this, this was different.

This was _Keith._

Keith, the guy he’s had an intense rivalry with since the Garrison. Keith, the hothead who ignored him for years, and still tries to ignore him. Impulsive, rash, overly competitive, lone wolf Keith with his stupid mullet and stupid crop-top jacket and stupid fanny pack; Keith, who just days before denied any feelings for him, just kissed Lance. 

It takes a while, but Lance finally regains semi-control of his thoughts. He wipes his hand over his lips, thrice for good measure, feeling the goose-bumps rise along his arms. _I really should listen to Hunk more,_ Lance thinks bitterly, taking a step forward. The sudden pit in his stomach almost makes him fall over, but he ignores the empty feeling and drags himself out of the room. He goes to the bathroom and scrubs his teeth, three times over where their teeth clacked, still feeling the dull ache from the collision. He washes his face and hopes he can hide his own confusion behind his facemask, and he falls asleep before he can recall that brief, infuriating, utterly confusing kiss.

 

Lance’s plan to forget the kiss is ruined by his own subconscious. Haunted by the incessant memory, it manifests itself in an obscure dream featuring a hyper-realistic myriad of events that Lance may or may not have forgotten: a strange ship, an off-color planet with dark and spindly trees, an extravagant pool resting on a ceiling. Lance is sure he’s never seen any of it, yet they present themselves as if he were reminiscing over a recent memory. It’s definitely one of Lance’s more confusing dreams, and for once he’s almost glad the alarm wakes him up in the middle of his sleep.

“Paladins!” Allura’s shrill voice rings out over the intercom, “we’ve been located by Galran space sentries. They’re flanking us too closely for us to open a wormhole, so we need you to buy us some time,” her instructions are clear, and Lance is already in his armor by the time she cuts out. It’s odd, Lance has only donned his armor a few times since he woke in the pod, but suiting up has become so natural, like muscle memory. Despite all the bits and pieces and the tight spandex, he’s dressed in less than a doloshe and already down the chute to his Lion.

He can hear Shiro over the comm, shouting formation instructions as they take off. In his peripheral, he spots a yellow blur as Hunk maneuvers towards Shiro. Just beyond him, a red lion nimbly dodges the laser shots from a nearby ship.

“There’s too many of them to take down if we form Voltron, so just focus on taking the small fry down alone. Try and stay in groups of two if possible,” Lance isn’t one to disobey, so he diverts from the group to help Pidge take down one of the outlying ships. Lance is vaguely attuned to the noise over his comm, most of it victory shouts as they take down the majority of the ships. He’s hollering into his own helmet when a slight movement catches his attention. In the midst of the destroyed Galran fleet, amongst frozen and burned ships, the vines ensnaring a destroyed sentry ship quiver slightly, aroused by the subtle movement of the particle blaster on top. Freed slightly from the crushing vines, both Lance and the sentry follow its target; a red mass weaving through debris and enemy fire, rash and oblivious.

Keith.

He’s pulling his thrusters forward before he even realizes what he’s doing. He doesn’t even recognize the voice over the comms, crying out Keith’s name as he jolts towards him. There’s a pause in Keith’s erratic movements through the enemy lines, picking up the alarm in Lance’s voice. But he’s too late. He sees the lights glow up along the laser, watches the beam as it grows steadily closer to Lance, bigger and brighter until its blinding and right upon him. There’s a dull impact, an immediate recoil as Blue absorbs the hit. He hears Hunk, Pidge, Shiro, and maybe even Keith, screaming in his ear as he tumbles through space. Through his spinning vision he can see the sentry resign itself to a blast from Keith. 

In the midst of the white light from the blast and the vertigo from his free-fall through space, he glimpses it: a phantom pain pulling at his stomach, a jolt that ignites his whole body. Mixed with the dizzying spots dancing along his eyelids, he sees a red suit, a fallen soldier brandishing a weapon and himself, caught between the two of them. He observes himself, shit-eating grin twisting into a grimace as he catches the Galran soldier, arm limp and charred from a previous shot by Lance, rising with knife at the ready. Lance watches as he goes from high-fiving Keith to shoving him sharply out of the way, pushing him into the ground just as the knife digs through the sheer spandex of his armor. 

“Lance, buddy, are you okay?” He hears Hunk, and he laughs dryly as he shakes his head, feeling the weight of the impact faintly.

“Hey, it’s not like that could take down Big Blue. It was just a hit from a sentry ship, relax. Just give Blue a tick to recover and she’ll be good as new,” Lance says, shaking his head once more to dispel both the nausea and the memory. Their tension is palpable, and Lance understands; he was almost done in by the Galra before, but this time he’s got his Lion at his side. 

After that, they’re able to take down the remaining stragglers with ease so they can follow the wormhole into a neighboring system. They convene back in the Castle, and Lance finds himself surrounded by nervous Paladins.

“Seriously, Lance, that was a pretty direct hit. You should probably lie down or something. Your head doesn’t hurt, does it? Or, well, any other part of you?” Hunk is acting nervous, poking gingerly at Lance’s forearms. 

“Relax big guy, I’m fine. What are you, my mother?” Lance laughs, dissipating the tense mood with his usual breezy attitude. Allura dismisses them again to get rest, and Lance happily obliges. In truth, his head is pounding from all the strange visions and the blast and everything else that’s happened since he woke up on an alien ship a billion light-years from home. 

 

He wakes up with a pounding headache.

In truth, he should’ve expected it. Grammy Sanchez always warned him that sleeping with a headache always made it worse when you woke up. There’s a thin veil of sweat along his forehead, and Lance presses his cool palms onto his blazing forehead to alleviate some of the pain. He tries to get up to ask Coran for some weird Altean remedy or maybe water, but quickly gives up when the overwhelming sense of nausea overcomes him. Resigned to his fate, he lies face-up in bed. He was never one to get headaches, but his sister always suffered from chronic migraines. The doctors always said it was stress, and Lance never understood what they meant until now. 

“I guess being the Universe’s savior can be pretty stressful,” Lance informs his ceiling, frowning slightly when the ceiling doesn’t respond. “Do you think being the Universe’s destroyer is stressful? Maybe Zarkon gets migraines from the stress of all that destruction,” Lance laughs dryly, growing grumpier still when the ceiling yields no emotions. “All those Disney films really gave the wrong impression. I thought magical castles manned by an ancient alien race would be sentient or something, but I guess that’s too much to ask,” this time, Lance, even with his headache-blurred consciousness, doesn’t expect a reply.

“Kind of unfortunate, I wish there was someone on this Castle I could talk to. Hunk can’t keep secrets and Pidge is a little gremlin, so there’s nobody to really talk to. I mean, I guess it won’t be so bad to talk my feelings to an inanimate object. Not like _you_ could tell anyone that Keith kissed me, right?” Lance spreads out, pulling himself out of his comforter to cool off his heated body. Spread-eagled on the bed with his hands tucked under his head, he slowly counts the impressions along the ceiling, mapping out the mini constellations they form.

“I don’t even get it. He _told me,_ to my face, that he didn’t like me. And then, all of a sudden he kissed me? What even is up with that guy?” Lance divulges to the ceiling, which, predictably, doesn’t answer. “I didn’t even think Keith liked guys, or people in general. A warning could’ve been nice, at the very least. Besides, I’m straight! Girls are the greatest, I love girls!” Lance begins to doubt that the ceiling has any romantic experience, mostly because it’s a ceiling and it probably has never has a girlfriend.

“I like girls but… it’s kinda weird. Like I think of Keith and there’s this aching hole in my stomach all of a sudden, and I can’t really place it, it… it’s hard to explain. I don’t know if I want to hit him or hug him and it’s just…. Ugh!” Lance presses his palms into his eye, which he regrets as soon as pain surges up into his temple. He puts his hands down to his sides, exhaling sharply. He can feel his head gain weight against his pillow, and his eyes slowly droop.

“I mean I’m… I’m Lance Sanchez, savior of the Universe and lady-killer extraordinaire,” he knows falling asleep won’t help his headache, but the wet tears forming around his eyes work as a good adhesive to keep his eyes closed. “But that vision, this pit in my stomach…. They feel so real,” Lance mutters, unsure if the ceiling can hear his mumbling anymore, but it’s not slapping him awake or anything so Lance assumes it doesn’t mind. “I don’t think love is supposed to… feel like this…”

 

 

The next day is relatively peaceful. Allura lets him sleep in for once, probably in consideration of his battering the day before, so he wakes up with Hunk’s amazing breakfast waiting for him and his headache completely gone. Everyone’s off to do their own thing, and Lance still hasn’t figured out what his _own thing_ is, so he finds himself meddling with Pidge’s mechanical thingamajigs and Hunk’s cooking concoctions until they both get fed up with him and kick him out.

The Castle is huge, but Lance had gotten lost too many times in the vast interior to try exploring for too long. He trails past the elevator leading to the pool, gets a sudden shiver down his spine, and abruptly turns around towards the viewing deck.

Coran’s usually the only one up on the deck, gazing wistfully at stars and nebulas and planets as they drift past. Lance will join him in time to hear him talk about how _this planet_ reminds him of Altea’s _one thing or another._ He’ll nod, and respond with an anecdote about Earth, like how the waves on the beach lull at night or how the leaves change colors. It’s companionable, and Lance is glad Coran has been there to help him cope after he lost his memories.

There’s a figure on the viewing deck, but it’s not Coran.

 Lance is tempted to turn around when he sees that bright red crop top and that greasy mullet. But he knows Keith, or he kind-of knows Keith, and he knows if he doesn’t confront him he’ll be ignored forever, just like before. Sucking up a breath, he takes a step forward and hops down next to Keith. He can feel Keith tense up, subtly. He tries to stand up, but Lance stops him.

“Hey, hey, there’s no rush. I just wanted to talk,” Lance soothes, and it works well enough as Keith sits back down, albeit his back is still arrow-straight and tense.

 “If it’s about the other day I don’t want to—“

 “It’s not. Well, it kinda is, but not in the way you’d think, I guess you could say,” Lance breathes out a soft chuckle. It’s awkward, and he finds himself toying with the thin hairs at the nape of his neck.

 “O—kay” Keith sounds skeptical, but he doesn’t make another attempt to leave. Lance has to remind himself it’s the small victories that matter.

 “I-I’ve always liked girls. Since I was old enough to realize girls didn’t have cooties, I thought they were cute,” Lance starts, and perhaps that’s not the right thing to say when Keith shuffles.

 “If you’re here to talk about girls, I have better things to do. You liking girls is nothing new,” Keith starts, moving to get up once more. Lance finds his hand darting out to grab his, and Keith finally turns around, eyes wide and surprised.

 “No!” Lance starts, surprised at himself. He takes a breath, retracting his hand and ignoring the lingering heat. “I mean, that’s not what I was trying to say,” Lance takes a calming breath. To Keith’s credit, he sits back down. “I meant to say, I always _thought_ I liked girls. Like, I never really considered anything else. But then, lately, I’ve been getting these weird dreams. Like, I had this one where we were fighting this huge purple furry monster and you were there and…” Keith sucks in a breath, and Lance averts his gaze so he can’t see his blush. “I don’t know, but all these dreams, they feel so _real._ I don’t know if what Hunk said was true, but maybe I did have a crush on you before I lost my memories or something. So, this is just my suggestion, but would you want to give us a try?” Lance’s face is on fire, and his heart is beating so hard its covering up the feeling of that ever-present pit in his stomach.

 Lance expects a reaction from Keith, perhaps a quick verbal affirmation, or maybe some physical contact. When none comes, he turns around and is faced with Keith, face red and eyes wet. His cheeks have moved past an innocent blush to an angry shade of red, and he looks so upset he’s quivering. Keith quickly looks down, bangs shading his eyes as his strained voice coughs out the words.

"You just said it yourself, right? You’re straight, you didn’t even think of asking me this until you heard about your memories. I don’t want you to chase the ghost of your memories. You can’t force yourself to go out with me just because you think you used to like me,” Keith’s teeth are gritted, and the stars outside reflect off the moisture sliding down Keith’s face. Lance reflexively reaches out, but stops himself, turning away.

“You’re right, I shouldn’t do this based on what I used to feel. Because whatever I used to feel, I still feel now. Deep down, at least. When I threw myself at that sentry, I didn’t even think about it. It was like; all I wanted was to protect you. And if I did the same thing in the past, that’s okay, but I’m still the Lance I was before I lost my memories. I don’t have to remember everything; I just need to know that I want to protect you. Please, let me continue to protect you,” Lance can feel that same wetness trailing down his face, their teardrops joining in the space between them.

“Okay,” Keith says, his voice paper-thin and trailing off at the end. “But, you have to let me protect you too,” Keith says, and Lance finds their eyes meeting. The stars from the viewing window reflect along his purple irises, projecting galaxies and nebulas that Lance tries to commit to memory. He leans forward, his hand finding Keith’s as their foreheads touch. Lance laughs softly, his breath panning out across Keith’s damp cheeks.“I swear I’ll never forget this,” Lance sighs against Keith’s lips. Just before they’re about to touch, he feels Keith’s lips tweak upwards, almost imperceptibly.

 

“If you do, I’ll just have to make you fall in love with me again,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's done! I legit wrote all of this last night and it's probably two chapters combined, but I didn't want to drag it on. I have 3 more chaptered fics to finish and this one was honestly dragging on for months. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this short fic and that y'all will continue to support me. I want to go back and fix some things in chapter one later,especially the intro because rereading it has me cringing so hard. Also maybe the dialogue at the end. I tried to make it sound like the whole "i dont usually like guys.... but he's different," thing because it's p gross??? Anyways, my expectations for this fic have steadily hit rock bottom so we're all chill.  
> You can also totally see where I put in my own little headcanons. I've had chronic migraines since I was 9, so I tried to project that on Lance just because I didn't have any other great ideas :P
> 
> Anyways, thanks for sticking with this fic for so long and I hope y'all will read the rest of my fics. Kudos and comments keep me motivated and I love hearing y'all scream at me. This is my first chaptered fic I've written to the end, so if you guys liked it I'd love to hear your reviews.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading!
> 
> kagedyams.tumblr.com


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